


Blood and Rain

by maryjo24



Series: Valen [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Creature Dean, Explicit Language, M/M, Past Child Abuse, Tortured Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-31
Updated: 2015-01-31
Packaged: 2018-03-09 20:52:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3264032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maryjo24/pseuds/maryjo24
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a world where monsters are real and prey on a human population blithely unaware of their presence, Hunters also roam the nights, defending humanity from supernatural threats. Dean Wilton is one such hunter, but he is no longer human. When a hunt goes south, he finds himself in a dire predicament that only the secrets of his past stand a chance of saving him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blood and Rain

**Author's Note:**

> Written for based on GlassLogic’s art prompt [Rain](http://ic.pics.livejournal.com/spnreversemod/39830858/126913/126913_original.jpg). Awesome Art Masterpost can be viewed HERE

  


__  
**May 1st, 1983**  


Rain beats and splashes off the mangled metal carcass that sputters and spits at the side of the road. A small voice trembles from within, “Mama?” Again, the boy calls as his small hands pulls on her dangling arm over the seat in front of him, “Mommy? Daddy? ” he sobs again. It’s dark and cold, and the car sounds funny.

He gets up on his knees, sobbing desperately for mommy and daddy, and bangs his fists on the seat. Why isn’t Daddy yelling at him to stop and sit down? He pulls on Mama’s hair, yellow and wet and red, and pushes at her head. He’s only four (and a half) but he knows that she shouldn’t be sleeping like that cus it’s not good for the baby. He has to help her get out of the car. 

He pushes on the door behind Daddy, it’s hard and it sticks but it finally opens with a loud pop. He holds on tight to Mama’s arm and pulls hard, his legs pushing against the seat. But Mama’s arm is slippery with the rain and the red stuff, and suddenly he’s falling out onto the side of the road. He hits hard on his hands and his butt, skidding a bit on the rough, wet ground. Mama hasn’t moved and he wails. His hands hurt and he looks down at them, they’re all scraped up, like his knees were when he slipped and fell down the steps of their house. But the rain is washing away the blood and he can see why one hurts more, one of Mama’s funny stars off her bracelet and it’s stuck in his hand. And he sees the cross thingy too on the ground where his hand was. He pulls it the star and puts them both in his pocket. Mama would be sad if they were lost so he’ll keep ‘em safe.

The rain is coming down harder now and the boy knows now that he’s too little to pull Mama and Daddy out of the car. But he thinks that someone will come, so he sits back in the car to wait. Mama is still warm, and he can hear her breathing a little bit, sometimes she gurgles, so he squeezes under her arm and plays with the other little toys on her bracelet. As he pushes at them, he wishes the winged girl, an Angel Mama says it is, had come off instead. Mama always said that Angels were watching over them and he hopes they’re watching now. He hums a little bit, he doesn’t remember the words but he pretends Mama is singing like she always does to him.

And it must work because soon there are lights and he hears the policeman sounds, and he knows they’ll help. _Find a policeman_ Daddy always says and he tells Mommy and Daddy that they’re here. He gets back out of the car and begins waving so they know how to find them. And soon, there are policemen and doctors and other grownups running around. He waits for someone to tell him where to stand, he’s scared, there’s so much yelling and they have these big scissors and they’re cutting up Daddy’s car. He rubs his eyes, trying to be a big boy and not cry and the rain is still falling on his face and all around. He hears one of the policeman talking about the rain, and how it made Daddy crash the car. He decides that the rain is bad, he hates it for hurting Mommy and Daddy.

One of the doctors comes over, she smiles and asks him where it hurts and he holds out his hands for her. She looks at them, smiles, and says they’ll get better. Then she flashes a light in his eyes and tells him to follow it without moving his head. He does, and she tells him that he was good, real good. She tells him to wait there while she goes and helps his Mommy. He nods as she rushes away.

“Hey there, little guy, what’s your name?”

Dean turns and sees one of the grownups standing over to him, he isn’t dressed like one of the policeman or the doctors, but he seems nice. He’d seen him talking to one of the policeman and he had showed him something. Mommy said he should never talk to strangers, but it must be okay. He tries to be brave.

“Dean – my name is Dean. I’m four and half!” He thinks that must be good because the man smiles.

“Well Dean, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Mister Foster, and I’m going to take you to see your Mommy and Daddy. But why don’t we move out of the way here so the paramedics can help them, okay?”

“ ‘Kay. Are they gonna be alright? They weren’t moving.” He sniffled.

“Sure they will. I like your bear, so you wuv hugs, do you?” The nice man smiled and pointed at his shirt, “How about I give you one now, and then when we get to the hospital, Mommy and Daddy can give you more.”

“ ‘Kay.”

Sniffling a little, Dean reached up to the man and laid his head on his shoulder as he was hoisted up. Mister Foster gave him a quick squeeze and then they were moving over to one of the cars. A light twirled around in the front window and the man leaned into the car and did something that made it stop. He yelled to one of the policeman and waved as he plopped Dean down on the front seat and buckled him in to the front seat.

Soon they were pulling away and Dean twisted around and watched until he couldn’t see Daddy’s car anymore. But for the first time since everything had gotten all twisted up, Dean felt that everything was going to be alright.

  


  


Dean don’t member much from Before. But he does know that his name is “Dean”. Not ‘brat’ or ‘humin’ or ‘lunch’, but “Dean”. He says it to himself every time he wakes up – My name is Dean – and then he pisses in the corner (‘pisses’ he likes that word, sounds way better than ‘pees’, old Jimbo taught him that one), and he washes his hands with the water in the sink when they got one, or outta the bucket if they don’t cause the Angel always said wash your hands after you go piss (or nummer 2). Then he squeezes a bit of the white goop outta a mangled tube and fingers it over his teeth. He kinda remembers the Angel holding his hand as he held a bristly stick and rubbing it over each one he had, saying he had to take good care of them so that his big teeth come in right. The toothers must’ve taken real good care of theirs. He thinks he musta been bad with his, ‘cause his don’t look like theirs. Even the big ones he got when his lil ones fell out aren’t the same. But he don’t have a bristly stick, so maybe that’s why. He just hopes the Angel will understand when She comes for him.

Then he looks to see if the toothers left any food by the door. This new place has the door up some stairs and he has to be real quiet when he gets it. Missus Jonsun said they was in a basement – she called him stoopid cus he didn’t know that, but he’s been more places than her so maybe she was the stooped one. And selfish, cus if he didn’t get the food before her, she ate it all. So he always tries to get it first and hides it, it’s easier to split it out that way. He’s never sure when the toothers will leave more and everyone’s always hungry ‘cause there’s never enough. Once he’s figured how much he has in his stash, he checks on the other little kids cuz they’re his to take care of, makes sure they wash their hands and their faces, and brushes their teeth, and that they get some food to eat. 

Whenever new ones come, he always asks them their names, and he tells them his, and helps them member too. Right now, there’s only little Suzie, she’s really little, littler than he thinks he was when the toothers got him. And she cries all the time, but sometimes he can make her less sad when they play games like pat-cake and spying eye. He tries to tell her that the toothers get mean when they cry, thems that cries too much don’t come back, but she don’t really understand, just looks at him and cries more. She don’t like the toothers and he’s guessin that she might be going away soon.

He doesn’t know why everyone else always goes away, and why the toothers won’t let him go away too. But he thinks he maybe don’t wanna know, that maybe he should be happy to stay. Sometimes there’s big people too. Some of them teech him stuff, after they get done treatin him like a baby, anyway. Like old Jimbo, he stayed a long time. But one day they took Jimbo away and he didn’t come back. Dean cried once he was sure, he don’t know why, but then they bought him a new kid and a new name to learn and it made things better for a while.

There were lotsa names he learned, he used to just say them in his head, over and over so he’d member them. There was a real nice lady once, she said he could call her Patti and that she was a teecher. She teeched him how to learn lotsa stuff. He was glad that she stayed a long time, she got the toothers to give her a book and some pencils and she taught him to make his alfabet and nummers, and how ta put em altogether and make hole wards and whole setenses. She teeched him the names of all sorts of things like boy and girl (he’s a boy and Patti was a girl but he don’t know why they were different), and cat (that’s what the black thing was that scratched him once when he tried to touch it), and lotsa things that sounded really cool like fone and telvizn and pie. He’s sure he must’ve seen those things, Before. But he doesn’t really member Before real good. 

She taught him how to write his name, D-E-A-N, and he did all the way down the page then back up and sideways. He filled up one whole page with his name and Patti smiled and told him he did real good, that she was prowd of him (not sure what _prowd_ meant, maybe it means happy cuz she smiled). Patti helped him write other things too, like the rest of the names, he said ‘em out loud and she wrote them down. And then when he got better at the letters, and knew what they sounded like, he started writing the names himself. Patti was real happy when he did, said she was prowd of that too. He didn’t mean to make her cry when he started crossing out the names, but she said she understood when he told her that meant they went away, maybe somewhere better (even though he didn’t really believe that). One time, there were six whole names in the book that wasn’t crossed off, but usually it was only two or three (besides his) that weren’t.

After she left, he scratched her name out in the book, P-A-T-T-I, that was her name, she was nice. There are a lot of scratched out names in the book, and he makes sure he reads through the book every day to member them. He’s teaching Suzie to read them too, and explaining what he does. He showed her his name, tells her that maybe she’ll have to scratch his name someday, and take care of other kids. But she’s probably too little, doesn’t understand a whole lot, keeps trying to scratch his name and hers with the stubby pencil even though he tells her it’s not time yet. 

So now it’s only Suzie and him, he already scratched out the mean old woman Missus Jonsun, that was a lotta letters and hard to spell out, but she wouldn’t tell him her shorter name, said he was dizspectful for asking. They took her away a while ago, she’s probably not coming back. But there’s always new ones that come, the toothers seem to like it better when there’s more of them. And Missus Jonsun isn’t eating all the food so he’ll maybe have enough to feed them. He tries to get Suzie to eat, but she don’t look too good and he always tries to get them to leave the little ones alone if he’s awake when they come. One of these times, he knows he won’t be coming back, and he wonders who’ll scratch his name out in the book.

  


  


The coroners lifted the body from the ground and laid it on the gurney none to gently. Dean growled at their lack of consideration but the poor girl was beyond feeling the disdain and judgment from the morgue attendants. Savaged by a feral dog pack was the conclusion of those on scene and Dean knew that precious tax dollars wouldn’t be wasted on an autopsy of no-name, unwanted, homeless streetwalker to prove any different. Unless of course the FBI upped the stakes.

“So whatcha think Agent Young, this the work of your perp?”

Dean took a deep breath, issuing a silent apology for the lie and a promise to the dead girl, before turning back to the police officer with a shake of his head.

“No, you’re probably right, wild dogs. My perp’s a vicious son of a bitch, but this is too much for even him. Guess I’ll be heading out in the morning, got another lead upstate.” He stretched out his hand, and shook the Sherriff’s hand, “Hope you’re able to track down your pack.”

“Thanks but I don’t have much faith in those incompetent idiots in Animal Control. They’ve been working on this for over a week now, don’t understand why they haven’t been able to round those dogs up yet. But in a way, I’m kind of relieved. The thought of something person doing this…” The deputy shook his head and shivered, “Makes you question your belief in humanity.”

Dean nodded in commiseration, “Know what you mean. There are some real monsters out there. Well good luck on the dog hunt and thanks for all your help.”

As he walked away, he looked up at the sky, and cursed. He’d been feeling twitchy the past few hours and now this. The sun had already disappeared behind a gloomy haze. As much as he was grateful for that as direct sunlight always made his skin crawl, the clouds already gathering in dark, angry rolls promised a heavy downfall that wasn’t exactly ideal for what he’d be doing tonight. 

Reaching his rental, he loosened his tie as he took one last look at the small crowd of curious by-standers. He couldn’t peg down what was pinging the not-quite-right button and that was a problem. It was too early for the vamps to be out, sun or no sun, and so far, he hadn’t seen any signs of hunters. But betting man that he was, he’d wager that’s what was creeping him out. He weighed the options, Hunters on the scene, no bueno. He could leave the job for them, his kill – their kill, no matter as long as heads rolled. And he’d rather it not be his. But, if he left too soon, another civilian died.

Folding into the car, he made up his mind. Stake it out tonight, and if Hunters show, he’ll beat feet and leave it to them. Otherwise, if just the vamps, then the stakes get used. He chuckled at his own pun, _I slay myself!_ and drove off with a snort.

  


“So what did you find out, Gwen?” Samuel questioned his niece as Gwen Campbell meandered her way up to where they waited in the shadows of a weeping willow. The trees drooping branches provided them plenty of cover to observe the crime scene undetected.

“Definitely vamps, a vicious group too by the looks of the corpse, more than a couple of them. Local yokel thinks it a pack of dogs, waiting on Animal Control to round ‘em up.”

“Yeah, well good luck with that,” Christian Campbell piped up with a grimace. “Who was the suit?”

“Near as I could tell, some sort of Fed. One of the girls who was closer to them said it sounded like he was looking for Jack the Ripper.”

“Long dead, and his ghost was salted and burned decades ago.” Samuel’s grandson commented as he reached the group.

“Find any likely locations for the nest, Sam?”

“Sorry, Grandpa, too many really. Between the drought and the re-routing of the freeway, lot of movement out of the area and lots of abandoned houses at the fringes and outside of town.” Sam ran his hand back over his head, pushing his bangs out of his eyes in frustration, “Any one of them could house our nest.”

“Well it looks like we’ll have to do this the old-fashioned way. Feeding ground seems to be this local G-strip so we’ll setup a surveillance starting tonight. They fed last night, but since it doesn’t look like they’re taking thralls yet,” he glanced at Sam for confirmation.

“No kidnappings reported. Just dead hookers, two last week but only this one so far this week.”

“Then maybe we’ll get lucky and they’ll be hunting again within the next couple of nights.”

Sam looked over at the crime scene, watching the tall guy in the suit walking away.

“Who’d you say that guy was, a fed?”

Gwen looked over her shoulder and back, dark ponytail swinging, “Yeah, why?”

“Not sure, just something about him. Dunno, like I know him. Huh, maybe I saw him around town.”

Christian laughed, “What, is he making your Spidey-sense tingle, Sasquatch?” He reached up and flicked a lock of Sam’s hair off his nose.

Sam grabbed Christian’s arm as it pulled away and twisted it around, pulling his cousin into a long-armed bear hug. “You know for a Hunter, your complete lack of appreciation for a sixth sense is unbelievable, asshole!”

The two large men tussled and scrambled about, kicking dirt up under their boots, each trying to get the upper hand until Samuel stepped between them.

“Boys, boys! Settle down, we got a job to do. And Sam, I thought I told you to get a haircut.”

A chorus of yessirs, a couple of shoves back and forth, Christian smirking as he ran his hand through his short blonde hair, and the younger hunters backed away from each other.

“Gwen, what do you think, he legit?” Samuel turned back to his niece, bushy eyebrows raised.

“From what I saw, probably. Typical government suit, rumpled and fit like crap, lousy taste in ties, and he was driving a rental. Sounded like he was planning to head out of town by the time I got close enough to hear.”

“Okay, he shouldn’t be in our way then but be sure to keep an eye out for him. Sam, you and Gwen circle round town from the East, report if you see anything. Christian and I’ll take it from the West. Let’s be back at the rooms by 14:00. We all need a few hours of shut-eye before tonight. There’s multiple perps and a possible civilian, I want everybody sharp tonight.”

  


From his perch high in the tree, Dean waited and silently bemoaned the constant drip of water on his face. At least the downpour had ebbed to a slow drizzle making it somewhat tolerable. He hated rain, the earliest memory he has of Before was of rain, fodder for recurring nightmares of lights spinning through sheets of rain from his view peeking over a vinyl seat. Then hearing nothing in a vacuum of sound but screams and screeching metal. He remembers crying, screaming for his Mommy and Daddy, but they don’t answer, unmoving, people-shaped forms in the front seat, their hair wet and scraggly all he sees. Never their faces, to this day, he can’t remember what they looked like. Then he’s falling to slick wet asphalt, skinning his knees and his hands. He remembers the blood, blood on his hands, on his face, on his clothes. Blood that was his, blood that wasn’t, blood that belonged to the still bodies trapped in a misshapen hunk of metal. Then the rain is washing his face and hands, sluicing red rivers to the ground, pooling around bare feet.

He really hates the rain, seemed like nothing ever came out of it but bad and blood. Well, maybe not everything.

  


  


It was pitch black, rain pounding against the small window high above them when Dean was jolted from his sleep by Suzie’s loud scream in his ear. Still groggy from serving the toothers at dinnertime, he was barely able to move his arm to stroke soothingly up and down her back as she squirmed against his chest. Twisting in his arms, she wrapped her body around his, her arms tightly wound around his still sore neck, “Dee, Dee!” she cried, “Toofers comin!”

“Shh, Suzie-kins. I don’t hear nothing, just a bad dream, go ta sleep.”

The words were barely out of his mouth, when he heard it, a muffled yell and then a heavy thumping above them. Quickly he stood up, pulling Suzie with him. He swayed and barely managed to stay on his feet from the sudden movement and Suzie’s weight.

“Whazit, Dee?” Suzie whispered in his ear, her voice trembling, as he steadied himself against the wall.

“Dunno…” Dean held on to the frightened child, trying to offer comfort and shushing her to keep her quiet as the cacophony raged above them. He could hear the scuffles of feet, scraping of furniture, yells and screams above them. It sounded like when one of them who’d been taken up to feed the toofers tried to fight back, only worse. And whatever could be worse gripped him in fear.

Then suddenly all was eerily quiet except for the incessant, pounding rain. Fearfully, he grabbed the tattered blanket they slept under and wrapped it around Suzie.

“ Suzie? Go over in that corner and stay covered up under this. Don’t move or say nothin ‘lessen I tell ya to.” 

He pushed her to the corner behind him, watching as she tucked herself against the wall and pulled her head under the blanket. And just in time as the door above them creaked and suddenly flew open, crashing against the wall, and the light above washed down the rickety stairs to temporarily blind Dean.

Two shadowed figures loomed in the doorway as Dean staggered back as quick as he could from the shaft of light, away from Suzie, towards the back corner. The awful smell of their combined piss threatened to overwhelm him as he drew closer to it.

“Ha! Told you I heard something down here.” A strong voice boomed down the stairs and propelled Dean into action. Ignoring the ache in his head, he spurted backwards, his feet slipping on the damp cement until he felt the wall slam into his back. Rainwater from the leaks above wet his back but he was grateful for the support as he eased along the wall. His vision wavering, as he kept them in his line of sight and he in theirs, and away from Suzie.

“Goddess preserve us, it’s just a babe! Quiet your baying, Clayton, you’re scaring the child.”

Dean stilled as the soft voice, like that of his Angel, drifted towards him, her face was in shadow but the light shown around her, like a halo. But then the Angel started walking down the steps towards him, and he heard Suzie’s muffled sob in the opposite corner. It was just the smallest of sounds, just a tiny one, only he should have been able to hear it, but the girl – he could see her now, like Patti but not like Patti – stopped and turned towards Suzie.

“ ‘M not a baby!” Dean screamed and darted to the center of the room nearly falling, but standing his ground between Suzie and them. He wasn’t sure who these new ones were, but if they got past the toothers, then they had to be worse. He could make them forget about Suzie, then at least she’d be safe; it’s what he did. They’d take him and leave Suzie alone. But if they were worse, he wouldn’t come back, and Suzie wouldn’t know how to use the book, which name was his, when to scratch it out. 

Dean’s head hummed with the thoughts flying about and bright, angry spots began to form in front of his eyes. He could hear the voices, and Suzie’s crying, and he screamed at them to leave her alone before everything went black. 

  


When Dean woke up, it wasn’t a hard cement floor under him. Instead it was soft, and he was wrapped in a soft cocoon of warmth. Sometimes, he got to sleep on a bed, like when Vincent ate from him. But it didn’t feel the same. Vincent always had his arms wrapped round him tight, his voice whispering in breaths that smelled bad about how special Dean was, how he was Vincent’s mate, and how it was almost time.

But this time, Vincent wasn’t pawing him and it actually smelled kind of nice. He could hear voices but they sounded far away. Maybe if they thought he was still asleep, they might go away and forget he was there. Then he could get up, find Suzie, and they could run away. He tried not to member what had happened the last time he’d tried, but almost as soon as he thought it, it came back. It had been raining then too, and they’d found a hole behind an old wooden box against the wall. It was so easy, crawl out and run as fast as they could. They could find a policeman to help and he would get to go back to his Mommy and Daddy. But they’d run and run through a bunch of trees and fields, and still couldn’t find a policeman. And then it was dark, and the rain was pounding down on them. Tommy slipped and hurt his leg, and the blood wouldn’t stop. 

The toothers found them and dragged them back to the house through the mud, banging them against trees and rocks along the way. When they got back to the house, they didn’t go back in. Instead the toothers tied ropes around their arms and hung them from a big tree. And then the pain came and wouldn’t stop as Vincent used his belt and hit them over and over. So many times, and Tommy’s blood was splashing across his face as fast as the rain washed it away. After they ate off Tommy, they left him hanging there, his eyes just staring at Dean as he was dragged back into the house.

“Hey there, Champ. It’s okay, you’re safe now. Shhh it’s okay.”

Dean struggled against the man and his strong grip, whimpering and wiping away tears he didn’t know he’d cried. Back in the here and now, he realized what he was doing and stilled, not wanting to anger someone who’d taken out the toothers.

“Lemme go,” he begged softly, curling in on himself and trying to become as small as he could, “Lemme go, promise won’t run away. Don’t be mad.”

“Oh, I’d never be mad at you, Champ. I’m going to let go now, you were having a bad dream and I didn’t want you to get hurt.”

Dean breathed out a sigh when the arms unwrapped from their hug, and as he shivered, the blanket was pulled back up around him. The bed lifted up and he heard the man walk away. He kept his eyes squeezed shut, afraid to of what he would see if he opened them, and burrowed under the soft blanket.

“Hi Sweetie, I’d really like to meet you officially. Do you think you could open your eyes? We promise that nothing’s going to hurt you here.”

Dean heard the girl’s voice, soft and low. It reminded him of Before, before the toothers, before the man who pretended to be nice, before the lights and the rain and the blood. She sounded nice, at least nicer than any of the toothers ever were, and it was warm, and it smelled nice. Cautiously, he poked his head out from under the blanket, just far enough that he could open his eyes and look.

“Well, hello there,” the girl smiled and Dean nearly dove back into hiding, he hadn’t realized how close they really were, the two of them standing just at the foot of the bed, smiling.

“My name is Katherine, but you can call me Kate. And this big lug is my husband Clayton, Clay for short. And what is your name?”

Dean’s eyes darted back and forth between them, they hadn’t moved any closer, and they were still smiling, just waiting, waiting for him he realized. The toothers never waited, they wanted and they took. 

He opened his mouth and then he closed it. He bit at his lip, wanting to believe. And still they waited. Finally, he looked at them and spoke.

“Dean, my name is Dean. D – E – A – N and I can spell it too!”

Katherine clapped her hands together and laughed, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Dean spelled D –E –A –N! Welcome to our home.”

  


  


Yeah, Kate and Clay – Moms and Pops when he wanted to yank their chains – were just about the only good things that had ever come to him out of the rain as far back as he remembered. The rest of it was a huge pile of steaming, stinking crap. They had their reasons he knew, he was too old for them to just drop off at a hospital or police station and risk him spilling the beans about vampires. Not like Suzie; they’d dropped her off before he’d ever awoken, and all her talk about toofers and blood was written off to her trauma. He still checked up on her from time to time, and all things considered, she was doing okay. And he’d been too long a thrall for them to mesmer away that many years – five, eight, ten, however many – and expect him to have much a mind left.

So they kept him and raised him. Brought in tutors, caught him up with the school stuff, and then sent him off to public school so that he could be with kids about his age. Put up with his nightmares and fears and anger, all of his crap with patience they’d developed over a millennium of existence between the two of them. And they taught him that not all supernatural creatures were the evil he already knew too much of. They were Valen, cold-blooded lifesuckers, true, but they chose not to kill and were on the side of the good guys, for they also taught him the family business, hunting Rogues and vampires. That was when he found his place, because he loved hunting, and if it gave him a chance to get some payback, all the better.

Tonight though looked to be turning into a complete bust. Not that he expected much different with the feeding only the previous night. He’d hoped that the weather might entice them out, looking for easy, solitary prey with minimal risk of discovery. Tonight only a few hookers had apparently decided to brave the conditions and not that many more clients. At the moment only one girl still remained, dressed in a skimpy t-shirt and short skirt, she had to be freezing. He could practically see her shivering from his vantage spot half a park away and wondered what sort of desperation kept her there when every tell from the way she leaned against the wall, body huddled over itself, hair dangling soaked over the front of her face, screamed that she wanted to be anywhere else. She didn’t know it, but tonight she had a guardian angel watching over her. 

Working a stretch through his cramped muscles, Dean shifted restlessly against the tree trunk, straightening first one leg and back, the other, then his arms, shifting the hand-held crossbow pistol as he flexed the fingers of each hand. If something didn’t break soon, he might imbibe in the girl himself and then send her home. One of them needed to be smart about this. Then, there it is. A rustle of movement that would be indiscernible to human ears, and then he sees two dark forms moving swiftly towards the girl, while a third moves in off her flank. Bracing against the tree, he aimed the pistol on the one flanking and fired off his first bolt. As that one stumbled and began to fall from the dose of dead man’s blood in the tranq dart, Dean loaded the next bolt and turned his attention on the other two, just a one-two pop, then down to machete of three heads, mesmer the girl, and call it a night. At least that’s the way it would have gone down but Dean was beaten to the kill.

From out of the alleyway behind the hooker, two men rushed out and then Dean could only watch as with brutal efficiency the vamps were taken down and then out, and the not-a-hooker finished off his first target. Hunters, huh, well that at least explained what he’d been feeling earlier in the day. With nothing more to do, Dean checked to make sure the hunters attention was occupied and dropped silently to the ground in a crouch. A quick double-check on the hunters and Dean rose up under the canopy of willow branches.

“Hey! You!”

Startled, Dean turned to the voice, baring his teeth on reflex. Bad move as he took in the flannels and jeans and kicked himself for not looking for the Hunters backup plan. But too late, as he barely got his arm up to catch the blade as it cut through his jacket and into flesh. By then, he could hear the yells behind him as the others caught on, and he knew the situation was deteriorating rapidly. Hugging his injured arm to his side, he drop kicked his assailant, rolled, and brought him down hard. Quickly he stood but before he could run, the hunter had managed to grab hold of his leg and was trying to pull him back to the ground. A flash of moonlight lit up the hunter’s face and Dean startled in surprise. He’d barely gutted out a single word before a needle plunged into his neck and its contacts dropped him to the ground, writhing in agony.

“Woot! Saved your bacon, cuz!” Gwen chortled as the vampire dropped at her feet, “Weird, this stuff usually doesn’t cause that bad a reaction.”

Sam stood up and looked at the man convulsing on the ground, it was the one from the crime scene that Gwen thought was a fed. That clearly was not the case, but Sam felt that the man was not what he appeared, the rear guard for the nest. The man’s pack that lay at the base of the tree had spilled open and among its contents, a crossbow pistol and a machete, it looked more like the man was hunting the same thing that they were. Of course he’d seen the teeth, those weren’t the teeth of a vampire. But what he’d said before Gwen dropped him, that had Sam mystified. 

“Wow, look at those teeth,” Christian exclaimed at he pushed Dean’s lip up to expose the two long, thin teeth that protruded from the top gums, centered and only a half inch apart, “Just those two, the rest look normal.”

“Different species of vampire?” Samuel mused, “Or something else, anything you recall from the lore, Sam? Sam?”

Sam startled as he realized that his grandfather was speaking to him. He’d been staring at the thing on the ground who’d mercifully passed out and was still. And now that he’d gotten a longer, better look, that feeling was back from earlier. He knew this man, the features, the hair, the body. Flashes of memory that were there but every time he tried to turn and get a better look, they moved the same, always staying just out of sight. Shaking his head, partly in frustration and partly to respond to Samuel’s question; no, nothing in the lore that he recalled explained what the man was.

“Alright then, let’s get it secured. We’ll take it to the compound, catalogue and dispose of it there.” 

Samuel’s instructions were acknowledged and the group moved quickly to pack up and clear the area before someone came to investigate. Sam reached down and picked up the man’s pack. Not the he would need it anymore. Sam knew what cataloguing involved, he tried to avoid it himself, leaving it to his more blood-thirsty cousins, Christian and Mark. He recognized it as a necessary evil and documented every new piece of information that came out of those sessions at the compound. It added to the lore and improved their chances in the field. But he couldn’t shake that feeling or the look of recognition on the creature’s face when he’d seen Sam. How had he known, and why that name, a name between family, one that Christian and Gwen teased him with, why had the creature uttered, _Sammy_ , like he knew him?

  


  


Dean leaned against the bar enjoying the cool slide of the bitter beer down his throat. It had been a while since he last fed so tonight he was hunting. But he wouldn’t let his pangs of hunger override his common sense. This last nest had gone far too public and no doubt had raised alarms in the human hunter community. With luck though, it would be a few days yet before any of them made it out to investigate and he’d be long gone. But the possible threat was real and relying on luck was akin to suicide. Another swallow drained the bottle as he glanced around the bar in a final acknowledgement of the slim pickings amidst the nighttime crowd of local yahoos. He was hungry, not desperate, and this town had a few more possible stops on the dinner tour. Before he settled for just satiating his hunger, he’d still make the effort to see if he could top his meal off with dessert, something spicy and a bit on the rough side is what he needed to burn off the excess energy still thrumming through his body.

Pushing off the bar, Dean reached for his wallet to close out his tab when the proverbial hairs on the back of his neck rose. Like an icy slide up his spine blossoming into a heady flush of desire, it was a strange sensation he hadn’t felt before. Slipping back down to the stool, he casually picked up the empty bottle and turned around carefully to peruse the entire room. And that’s when he saw him standing near the entrance, his large hand sliding away from the door as it closed behind him. Tall and lanky, boyish innocence evident in his wide open expression, soft brown hair tucked behind his ears and brushed the collar of his plaid flannel shirt. Dean felt the stirrings in his groin as the handsome boy made his way around the tables towards the bar, his long legs eating the distance quickly as he smiled softly and murmured polite “’excuse me’s” through the throng. A sweet college boy escaping the usual preppy gathering spots with a walk on the wild side, that something Dean could certainly be pressed upon to assist with.

Settling back on his stool, all thoughts of dining elsewhere fled as Dean decided that the flavor of the night was definitely male. Tipping his bottle to the bartender with a raised eyebrow, Dean waited for the refill as the boy eased onto a stool at the opposite end of the bar. A fresh longneck replaced his empty, and he nodded absently his appreciation as the bartender walked away. A quick conversation at the other end and the boy soon had his own bottle from which he took a long drink, his throat working the liquid down, long fingers tipping the amber glass between his stretched lips. And that was a sight that had Dean fighting to keep his upper brain focused on self-preservation while struggling to keep his baser instincts under control. Kate would absolutely have his head if he let Little Dean overrule everything she taught him. 

“Observation is the key to survival, boy. Acting on instinct alone gets you nothing but a sword cross your neck or flames at your feet.”

Downing the last of the latest beer, Dean stood and ambled slowly over to the other end of the bar, sure to add a stumbling weave to the short walk. Once his prey was nearly close enough to touch, he let himself trip up and fell the last bit against the boy’s shoulder, grabbing his arm as if fighting to regain his balance. The quick grope was enough to confirm that the boy was as fit as he appeared, feeling the muscles tense under the cover of his jacket. He would feed well tonight. Another brush confirmed a holster at his waist and another hard object, probably a large knife under his arm. But that was all he was able to gather as the startled boy stood and pushed away with one hand as his other came up clenching into a fist. Dean allowed the push off, and let his face show fear, feet scrambling while his arms wind-milled. He was sure it had to be a comical sight straight out of an old Stooges movie, but it worked, the boy’s face quickly morphing from anger to concern. Dean felt his strength when the fist opened mid-flight to grab hold one of his flailing arms, steadying him on his feet.

“Whoa there, cowboy,” the boy cautioned, his voice smooth like honeyed whiskey to Dean’s ears. And now that he had his first up close view of his prey, he quickly reassessed his first impressions. This was no boy, but a full-grown, even over-grown adult male. And a very cute one at that. 

“Thanks, pard’ner,” Dean turned a bleary-eyed smile up to his rescuer, groaning inwardly over his ‘clever’ response. At this rate, he’d be lucky if he got laid, much less fed. Soldiering on, Dean abruptly turned his attention to the bartender, thunking his bottle loudly on the bar-top as he pushed the drunken sap act up a notch.

“Hey barkeep, I’ll have another one of these. And put his on my tab too.”

The grizzled guy on the other side chuckled as he took the dead soldier, “Sure you haven’t had enough already, brother? I’m about ready to close your tab down.”

“Nah, I’m good, not drivin’. ‘Sides, my friend here’ll make sure I get tucked in safe and sound, right buddy?” 

He turned back and let his gaze wander over dinner and definitely desert, who had already settled back down on his stool, and waggled his eyebrows at his new friend with a leer. As the object of his attention blushed and tipped his eyes behind the hair brushing over his brow, little Dean swelled. Oh, this was going to be too easy.

  


It hadn’t taken long before Dean had Sam snared. They’d not traded last names as they traded stories over beers, but then they both knew the score. Sam may have been sheltered by an overprotective family, and had just graduated college, but he was no innocent. As the beers loosened him up and he became more comfortable in Dean’s company, he gave as good as he got. For the first time in the company of someone other than Kate or Clay, Dean was genuinely enjoying himself. But what he was projecting was a lie, and he knew that Sam wasn’t being that honest either. But for a brief moment he allowed himself to wonder, if they could make something long-term work between them. And just as quickly, he reminded himself that if Sam knew what Dean was, then he would probably feel compelled to hunt him. So with a touch to Sam’s hand, and a stroke of his finger, he made his intentions clear.

By the time they made it back to Sam’s room, they were both wound up and looking for relief. Clothes flew and once he had Sam stripped down, Dean realized how much his quick gropes had missed and spent quality time expressing his admiration, until Sam was begging for it. It was a heady aphrodisiac to recognize the threat that Sam represented to Dean and then to have him laid out beneath him, his strength accepting everything Dean delivered. As Dean pounded into him, _Sammy, oh Sammy_ slipping unrestrained from his lips, Sam moaned and panted so beautifully, each breathy gasp of _Dean_ ratcheting up Dean’s pleasure. Never had he had someone so expressive and it was with no small regret when he’d reached the pinnacle of his pleasure, Sam already strung-out from his own, that he buried his teeth into Sam’s shoulder blade and took his meal.

The Hunter’s blood flowed freely and as he bit deeper he found the marrow, sweeter than any he’d ever had before. The life essence he drew from Sam was intoxicating and it was the hardest withdrawal he’d ever experienced, even when he had been newly turned, to pull away before he drained Sam dry. Love ‘em and leave ‘em wanting was his motto but Sam was a true test of his conviction.

Sam was worn out from their sex and from Dean’s feeding, but he seemed fine otherwise. As Dean dressed, he kept up a quiet monologue of nothings and Sam smiled lazily, stretching every so often, as if trying to entice Dean back to bed. But Dean wouldn’t let that happen. If he got back in next to Sammy he might never leave. Slipping his jacket on, he walked over to the bed and knelt down next to it. Sam was sprawled on his stomach, one long leg bent up, his arms bowed up towards the headboard. His naked body was golden on top of the white sheets. Dean ran his hand up Sam’s spine, and Sam moaned, undulating in response. His bite had closed and the site should be only a bruise in the morning, sore but would be easily mistaken for a hickey.

“Sammy…”

“Hmm…” Sam smiled dreamily, his eyes barely open.

“I have to go now.”

“Stay…”

Dean fought the temptation and slowly shook his head, “I can’t – look at me.”

For the first time with Sam, he used the full allure of his Valen and Sam responded, his eyes opening wide.

“You’ll sleep now and when you awaken, you’ll remember only returning to your room with a faceless stranger. You won’t remember my name or my face but you won’t be bothered by that. You and he had an awesome time together but he was just passing through. You don’t expect to see him again.”

Sam’s face scrunched up adorably and then he responded to the mesmer, “We had a wonderful time, he was just passing through, I don’t expect to see him again.”

“Good boy, sleep now.” Under the full Valen mesmer, Sam’s eyes closed and soon he had settled into a sound sleep. Dean watched him a little longer before he stood up. He hadn’t brought anything with him and the only thing he left was in Sam. With a heavy sigh, he made sure that all Sam’s wards were intact, salted the door, and closed and locked it behind him.

  


  


“Son of a bitch! Fucker, that hurt! I was having a wonderful dream, and now your ugly mug’s ruined it.”

Dean grunted through the pain as Christian slammed his fist into Dean’s gut again. Christian laughed as Dean’s body tried to collapse inward but couldn’t as his arms and legs were spread-eagled between the widespread shackles in the floor and ceiling.

“You’re a real funny guy. So what shall we try next, Moe, electricity to the ‘nads? Your kind reproduce or are you turned? I’m thinking if it’s reproduction, this might cause some permanent issues on that.”

Dean groaned as Christian picked up a portable generator. Involuntarily, his legs tried to close and Christian snickered. Strolling up to Dean, Christian smirked and opened up a clawed clip a few inches from Dean’s eye. Dean smiled and then spit in Christian’s face. As the Campbell dropped the generator and rushed for the sink, Dean laughed.

“Let me know if that starts to burn, will ya?”

“I’ll show you burning, asshole –”

“Christian – my office.” Samuel and left the cell.

Christian stalked back to Dean and back-handed him across the face. Dean’s head snapped to the side and a fresh cut opened on his cheek.

“This ain’t over princess, I’ll be back so don’t get too comfy.”

“Awesome, sweetheart, but don’t hurry on my account!”

As Christian slammed the door, he heard the creature’s parting jibe and was cursing when he entered his uncle’s office.

“Going that well? Report, what have you learned if anything?”

“Well for starters, the kid’s got a mouth on him.”

“It’s not a kid, don’t start thinking of it in those terms. It’s a monster, it kills, and it’ll have to be put down when we’re through cataloguing it. So what are the facts you know for sure about it?”

“Accelerated healing. I’ve burned it, cut it, bruised it, and everything heals. Seems to be slowing down though so probably requires sustenance to refresh that capability. I’ve stopped short of cutting anything off, figure we can do that near the end. But I know the first thing I want to take out is its tongue. And for the next thing – ”

“I can imagine. We need to confirm what sustains it though and feed it. Otherwise, if the body part doesn’t regenerate, we won’t know if it’s because it can’t or if it needs to be fed. My guess would be blood, although the teeth are longer than the standard vamp. What’s the composition like?”

“They seem to be denser than vampire teeth and more needle-like. Can’t tell is there’s an opening in them, like it would suck something through the teeth.”

“Huh, make a note for the autopsy to check that out. Could be that whatever it eats is deep inside of a body. I’ve got Sam on the lore and morgue reports looking for reports of puncture wounds that might fit. Basic functions?”

“It has a heartbeat, slow but it’s there, about 1 beat an hour. It pisses, craps, and ejaculates. So the body does function to some extent, can’t test much more without risking killing it. Figure that’ll be in the last trials.”

“What about pain threshold?”

“Extremely high, but it can be hurt. I’ve had it begging and screaming, whining like a dog. The recovery rate is fast, when you came in we were just getting started on another round. Just 15 minutes earlier I think I had it near death.”

“Reactions to standard materials?”

“None that I can find yet; holy water, salt, iron, silver – nada. Dead man’s blood though, that tears it up. Much more extreme reaction than in vampires.”

Samuel pursed his lips as he steepled his fingers under his chin. “This one’s got me worried. And why do we have nothing on anything like it in the lore? I can’t believe it’s the only one of its kind. Anything in its effects?”

Christian pushed the bundle he’d brought with him across the desk. 

“Looks like anything you or I might carry, even a few fake IDs. Refused to tell me its name, but I’m guessing that it’s partial to the first name of Dean. All the IDs are a Dean-something.”

Samuel startled, “Dean?”

“Yeah, mean anything to you?”

Samuel shook his head slowly as he looked through the pile of clothes and weapons. Then his hand hovered over a length of leather. His hand trembling, he picked up the thin length and looked closer at the charms knotted into the black material, a cross and a six-pointed star.

“This was on him?”

“Wore it knotted around its neck. Cussed up a blue streak when I cut if off. Thought it was strange at first, they are silver and there were no burns on the neck. One of the ways I determined that silver caused no reaction.”

Samuel pushed up from his chair so fast that it slammed into the wall and tipped over. The leather clenched in his fist he stalked back to the cell and slammed the door open.

The creature raised his head and looked back at him, his eyes wide, recognizing rage.

“Where did you get this, you fucking piece of shit?!?”

“None of your fucking business old man!”

Samuel stood inches away from the creature, “Listen to me _Dean_ ,” he snorted at the reaction he got with that, “The dance you and my nephew been working though the past couple days is nothing. I taught him everything he knows and still got more to teach him. You will tell me where you got this before I’m done with you, you’ll be begging to tell me everything there is to know about you, what you are, and more.”

  


Dean hung barely conscious in his shackles. The old man had been true to his word and stopped only because Dean was incapable of answering his questions, his voice lost in the hours of screaming, and the questions no long registered in his cognition.

“What did you do to him? He was a baby, only four years old?!?” Samuel screamed at the delirious creature. It only mumbled and frustrated, Samuel grabbed the bruised and battered face and spat out, “Four years old!”

“ ‘N a haf,” Dean whimpered, lost in a memory, words coming out in a gurgling rasp, “Four ‘n a haf, m’ nay is Dean, D – E – A – N. I spell it too. Mama be sad if’n she lost her stars. Kep ‘m safe. Angls wash ov me.”

Samuel dropped Dean’s head like he’d been stung and backed away. It couldn’t be, it had to be some sort of cosmic joke. The bile was rising up his throat and he rushed out of the cell.

 

“So, it’s out of the chains and locked down in one of the holding pens like you told me to. Tucked him in and gave him a blankie, too. Now you want to tell me what’s going on?” Christian demanded as he dropped down on the chair in front of his uncle’s desk.

“Watch the tone, boy,” Samuel growled as he spun around, “I’m not in the mood.”

“Sorry, sir. No disrespect intended, but what was that in there? You had it broken in there, we should have it pushed harder!”

Samuel reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a silver chain bracelet. Carefully, he laid it down on the desk, shaping it into a circle and spreading each of its charms around.

“This was Mary’s, Sam’s mother.” He took a deep breath and continued, “She was wore it until the day she died. Each charm is handcrafted, so I know they’re unique, you’re not going to find them in some department store. Some have been in the Campbell family for generations, and all are warded or spelled. When I got it back in Mary’s effects, there were two missing. Here and here.” Samuel stabbed at two empty areas, where the spacing between neighboring charms was wider than the others. Then he laid the leather tie next to the bracelet, carefully spreading the two charms on it.

“The cross came over from Scotland with Mary’s great, great, great grandmother. And I made the unicursal hexagram myself and attached it the bracelet on Mary’s 16th birthday. Took me three tries to get it shaped right without breaking the line. I figured that someone in the hospital had taken them but we had so much going back then with the funeral arrangements for her and John, the new baby, and – well we never looked into it. And now they show up around the neck of some sort of vampire?”

Samuel choked up, “And that thing in there is either my grandson Dean, or the monster that took him from us and probably killed him.”

Christian stared back, “Your grandson? I didn’t know Sam had a brother.”

“He – Dean – was four, four and half actually by his reckoning,” Samuel chuckled at a memory, “I’d talked on the phone with him that April and he insisted that over three months had passed since his birthday so he was now four and a half. There was no talking him out of it.”

“It was a car accident that took Mary?”

“Yes, her and John. John was dead by the time paramedics arrived and Mary was holding on by a thread. They got her to surgery in time to deliver Sam, but they couldn’t save her. She died on the table.

“We weren’t notified until a couple days later, some sort of records mix-up. We got there as fast as we could and they gave us Sam as his closest next of kin. But when we asked about Dean, nobody seemed to know. We tracked down anyone we could find who was there that night. One of the paramedics confirmed that Dean was there, she’d checked him out and other than scrapes and bruises, he seemed fine physically. She thought that someone from CPS was there with him but she never talked to the guy herself. Nobody else remembered a damn thing. A four year-old traumatized boy who’d just lost his parents and he was left alone, practically dropped gift-wrapped into the hands of some freak.

“We looked for him, sent BOLOs out to everyone in our network, called in favors, paid some forward. The closest we ever got was six months after Dean disappeared, when they arrested this guy, Benjamin Foster, for attempted kidnapping. Guy was a known pedophile and believed to be involved with some pretty nasty business in human trafficking. But before we could get to him to question him ourselves, he was shanked in prison.

“The trail ended with him. We heard a few rumors that his clients weren’t always human, but nothing firm.”

“But Sam doesn’t know? About Dean?”

“No, never seemed to be the right time and what do you say anyway – you have a brother but he may be dead, and if he isn’t… ” Samuel’s voice drifted off

“So I’m pretty sure I just the better part of the afternoon beating my grandson to a pulp, but then he’s not really my grandson anymore, is he? And the only way this ends for him – it – is on the business side of my machete. Do I have any other option here?”

“Shit, are you going to tell Sam?”

“What’s the point, it has to be put down. Why put Sam through that? And if I tell him, he’d be just as liable to turn it loose. So now you know, and this stays between us. We’ll take care of it in the morning.”

  


“I’ve got a problem.”

“Take two aspirin and call me in the morning, better yet, get me the aspirin and I’ll call you.”

Dean rolled over to face Sam groaning. Healing from the inside out meant that the broken bones had finally knitted back together but bruises would need more time and maybe a little Sam. Not that that was likely, especially from the look on Sam’s face.

“Okay, I’ll bite, what’s your problem?”

“Who are you? And why do I keep seeing you in my memory if we’ve never met before?”

“Believe this, if we’d met before, Hunter,” Dean leered, “You wouldn’t have forgotten.”

“And that right there, I know you’re lying, when was it? What did you do to me?” Sam crossed to the pen and knelt down, so he and Dean were eye to eye. Dean shifted up to a seated position, pulling his legs up to try and hide his nakedness.

“Okay Champ, getting a little close in my personal space there. Course I know that comes with the territory, cage and all, but it’s kind of awkward? Speaking of territory, you supposed to be down here talking with me, or is this a _good cop_ thing? Cus, I gotta tell you, your good cop needs work.”

Sam chuckled, “Yeah Christian said you were a wiseguy. Nope, no good cop ploy, just trying to figure this out. Course if I was playing good cop, that’s probably exactly what I’d say, so guess we’re back to square one.” The tall man sighed and sat back against the wall facing the pen.

“Look kid, we both know the score here. I’ve been here a couple days now, and I know about the Campbells, it’s like the family imperative, take down and out anything that isn’t human. Didn’t know about the torture factory thing you all have going on here, so awesome for the added bonus tour. But when you all are done trying to figure me out, I’m dead.”

“Back in the park, you weren’t after Gwen, were you? You were there for the same reason we were, to take down the nest.

“And you called me Sammy, no one calls me that unless they’re trying to piss me off. But you’ve called me that before, when was it?”

“Geez Sammy, like a dog with a bone.”

“We had an awesome time together, that’s what you said. I wasn’t to expect to see you again. And your name is Dean, you tried to take that away. But just sitting here, talking with you, whatever you did, it’s wearing off.”

Dean banged his head in frustration back against the bars of the cage, “That’s just great. So are we done now? I can die in peace?”

“If I help you get out of here, will you tell me when and where?”

Dean scrambled forward, “Seeing as I don’t really want to die, sure. But why are you willing to help me, aren’t you afraid I’m going to turn on you as soon as I’m out? And can’t imagine your Pappy’s going to be all that happy with you.”

“Yeah, well me and gramps have had it out before on the family doctrine, I don’t buy into black/white idea that if it ain’t human, it’s a monster. I’ve got a gut feeling that you fall into the gray area so that’s why I’m helping you.” 

Sam fished a ring of keys out of his jacket pocket and unlocked the cage door. As Dean crawled out and stood up, Sam pulled up a pack Dean hadn’t noticed before and handed it over.

“Here, I gathered up as much of your stuff as I could find. Now, when and where?”

“Let me get dressed first, feeling rather exposed.” Dean quickly dressed as Sam leaned against the wall, tense and impatient. Pulling his jacket on, Dean poked through the pack and looked back up to Sam, “You didn’t happen to see a length of black leather, it had a couple charms on it, a cross and a six-pointed star?”

“No,” Sam startled as a memory surfaced, a man leaning over him and the charms swinging down from his neck, “You wore it around your neck, guess it was important?”

Dean hoisted the pack over his shoulder and shook his head, “Don’t worry about it. Suppose I should probably get out of here, before someone comes looking.”

“For whatever reason, Gramps and Christian decided to break off cataloguing you. I figure you’ve got a couple hours before they come checking on you. Now your part of the bargain?”

“It was a little town outside Tempe Arizona, two years ago. I think we were both there for the same vampire nest. So we good, Sammy? I’m okay to just walk out of here, or are they waiting outside for me?”

Sam was hurt by the accusation but he realized that so far they had no foundation built for trust. For whatever reason, he was inexplicably drawn to Dean and the vague memories were sharpening with each detail, snarky comment, and Sammy that they shared. For now, he’d get Dean safe and see what happened from there.

“It’s Sam, and no one’s waiting. Let me go first, make sure it’s clear, and then I’ll point you the way out.”

  


Dean had to admit, he’d been surprised when Sam had actually shown him the front door, opened it wide and said _Don’t be a stranger._ as he closed it behind him. And he might have left it there, counting his blessings, but thoughts of Sammy kept drawing him back.

He gave it a few months before he tracked down Sammy, the hotel room was easy to break into, and the look on Sammy’s face when he walked into the room to be greeted with a “You said not to be a stranger,” would be a treasured memory.

~ FINIS ( _for now_ ) ~

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to GlassLogic for putting up with my flaky nature and for all the lovely art she put together for this and around with it – adding this or that, stretching here and there – and I love that in the end we were pretty much back to your original design.  
> Thanks to the wonderful SPN ReverseMod for organizing this challenge and their patience and flexibility (as usual).  
> And thanks to MeusVenator for reading over this and letting me know when I rolled a paragraph into an incomprehensible drabble, contradicted the continuity one paragraph to the next, and reminding me that commas and periods are my friends.


End file.
